


Dinner for Two

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Series: Sushi [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Bucky had followed him to the kitchen and was kneeling naked in the doorway. He was staring up at Steve with the slightly glassy expression Steve knew all too well, although he'd never seen it like this. </em>
</p><p>  <em>Bucky called it going into a pattern, not programming, because his actions weren't predetermined; he just had a limited range of responses to whatever was happening around him.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner for Two

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my Alexander Pierce/Bucky Barnes HYDRA Trash Party story, "See the Master's Hand." You don't have to read that story to understand this one, but you also cannot read this story without finding out what happened in that one, as Steve figures it out in the course of this story--the past sexual assault is very present here.
> 
> Many thanks to Gwyneth R, stoatsandwich, feanorinleatherpants, and Rubynye for their help with this story!

There was that moment that came with any action when Steve looked around and realized it was over, and all his people had come through it safely. Bucky was at his side, having made it through the fight without dropping into silent, blank-faced soldier mode. Clint had come down to ground level and was talking to Natasha, and Tony had the faceplate of his armor open and was encouraging the Hulk to sit down on the grass.

There were also eight harried cops and a camera-carrying horde descending on them from three directions. 

"Go on home, Buck," Steve said, because of all of them Bucky was still the worst at public relations; he could do it, but the effort to put on a camera-ready face was exhausting for him. 

Bucky's cheekbones were standing out sharply, and the circles under his eyes were bruise-dark today. He didn't need the stress of the after-action to ruin a good day, not when he was obviously happy. Any given firefight seemed to be the place Bucky felt most comfortable now, and Steve didn't want to see that ruined for him.

Bucky huffed, but muttered, "Aye aye, Cap," and leaned into Steve, a press of bodies that wasn't quite a hug and would have to do as a substitute for a kiss until Steve got home.

Steve wheeled to face the highest-ranking police officer in sight while Bucky strode briskly away. Steve heard someone yell Bucky's name, and looked in that direction; Bucky didn't break stride, but the idiot was waving a phone in his direction like he would get a reaction. Everyone else near him was looking toward Steve, edging away from the culprit, and Steve snapped, "Hey," because that kind of behavior didn't merit any more courteous phrasing. There were limits to Steve's politeness with the press.

The guy yelling at Bucky turned his camera toward Steve, and Steve just pressed his lips together and shook his head. He didn't recognize the guy; there was a chance he would learn the rules. _Leave Bucky alone if he's not speaking to you_ was right up there with _don't try to pull gotcha questions on Dr. Banner_.

Steve turned back to the police without giving the rude reporter any more reaction, and the whole mob closed in on him. The next time Steve had a chance to look around he saw that Bucky had gotten away clean.

* * *

It was another two hours before Steve was able to extricate himself, and by then he'd passed through the sharp pangs of hunger that usually followed combat. By the time he got free he was hungry in the way where his body had started shunting the distracting sensation aside, but he knew that if he sat down in front of food he would devour it. If he didn't get himself a square meal within the next few hours, his body would simply take over, and without making a decision about it he would discover himself in the act of ordering a half-dozen pizzas or standing in front of the refrigerator systematically shoveling down every high-protein item he could lay hands on.

It was time to eat, and that meant it was a good time to take a shot on his latest idea for a new food to try out on Bucky.

Bucky's metabolism ran about as fast as Steve's, but seventy years in HYDRA's custody had left Bucky with a marked aversion to more or less everything to do with food. Eating was a chore on good days, an ordeal or an impossibility on bad ones. A wide array of foods made him sick for no physical reason anyone could pin down, and there were as many he refused to even try. Something about the sight of guacamole had made him go pale--even Bucky couldn't say why--and after that all Mexican food had been effectively out of the question.

The files Steve had been able to locate indicated that Bucky had been fed by nasogastric tube, with some IV supplements to achieve complete nutrition. Bucky still went down to the Avengers' private clinic and asked for the NG tube whenever he'd gone a few days without being able to choke down his minimum sustainable calorie count; he hated the feeding tube like he hated most reminders of that time, but he hated being debilitated by starvation even more.

In the meantime, Steve took every opportunity he could find to introduce Bucky to new foods on a good day, in hopes of finding something he would actually enjoy eating. The best chance for getting Bucky to try a new food was for Steve to make or order enough of it to feed both of them, invite Bucky to join him, and then just go ahead and eat while ignoring Bucky completely. Bucky could usually at least identify something that seemed unobjectionable and nibble at it while Steve was eating. Even if he didn't go that far, he'd see and smell the food and get the idea that it was something Steve liked, which might eventually lead to him being willing to try it himself. Bucky's eating disorder therapist agreed with Steve on this; he said that making meals a positive social experience and modeling healthy and happy eating were important for helping Bucky form good associations with food.

Today, in the aftermath of a mission that had gone well both in general and for Bucky personally--he'd held down his position perfectly without going into one of the programmed fugue states that sometimes got hold of him during combat--was as good a day to try as any Steve was likely to get. Plus, the distraction of a new food would probably encourage Bucky to let Steve get a meal down before he started in on the post-mission sex. Steve was looking forward to that part, too, but if he didn't eat first he'd find himself naked in the kitchen eating peanut butter straight out of the jar afterward when he'd rather be dozing with Bucky. If Steve hit the jackpot this time and found something Bucky would actually eat, Bucky might not be driven out of bed either, whether to do battle with a peanut butter sandwich or to go badger the nurses downstairs for another feeding tube session.

Steve was cautiously optimistic about his chances tonight. He'd realized a couple of days before that there was a food he could happily eat in front of Bucky that didn't fall into any of the automatic danger categories--dairy, sweet, spicy, red meat, Mexican, unnatural colors. Bucky almost certainly had never eaten it and would have no bad associations with it.

Steve pulled up the GrubHub app on his phone and ordered two supersoldiers' worth of sushi to be picked up, already grinning in anticipation.

* * *

Bucky was lying on the couch when Steve got home. The TV was on, volume turned down to an ignorable whisper while Bucky did something on his tablet; he'd obviously showered when he got home, and was wearing a couple of layers of soft shirts and a loose pair of jeans. He didn't look up as he said, "Hey, Steve, you really gotta teach 'em to shoot your good side when you're on the news." 

"You said any time I had the mask on they were getting my good side, I thought I was okay."

Bucky did look up then, just to give a properly despairing headshake. Steve saw him clock the bags Steve was carrying.

"I got sushi, there's plenty if you want some," Steve said, raising the bags slightly and turning away as he spoke so Bucky could make his own decision about whether to acknowledge the implicit invitation. Steve took the bags over to the kitchen table and started setting containers out, checking the contents as he did. He'd told them to leave out the wasabi from everything--it looked enough like guacamole that it was bound to put Bucky off--but it didn't hurt to double check.

He heard a soft, solid thump and looked toward the sound, only to find that Bucky had followed him to the kitchen and was kneeling naked in the doorway. He was staring up at Steve with the slightly glassy expression Steve knew all too well, although he'd never seen it like this. 

Bucky called it going into a pattern, not programming, because his actions weren't predetermined; he just had a limited range of responses to whatever was happening around him. So far every pattern Steve had seen him fall into had been combat-related. 

Steve didn't want to think about what kind of pattern Bucky had been trained to that led to him being naked on his knees right now. Even as Steve thought it, Bucky fell forward onto all fours, crawling a few steps past the door. Steve felt like he was in free-fall, like the kitchen floor had just vanished from beneath his feet.

"Sir?" Bucky said, wide-eyed and anxious. Bucky's other patterns left him expressionless, hard and focused, not vulnerable like this. Steve could work with Bucky in soldier mode; he could give commands and Bucky followed them efficiently and effectively. This was... Steve really didn't want to give Bucky commands right now, but Bucky was obviously expecting him to do something. As he stood there not responding, Bucky's expression turned fearful. He raised a hesitant hand, like he was going to crawl a step closer, then put it back down, watching Steve like he was waiting for a sign of what he should do.

Steve crouched down to get his head more or less on Bucky's level, and beckoned Bucky closer. Bucky crawled to him, and Steve swallowed against a sick sense of dread and tried to control his expression. He reached out, and Bucky stilled under his touch, relaxing minutely when Steve's hand cupped his cheek.

"Bucky," Steve said gently, trying to focus on Bucky without seeing the anxiously intense way he was looking back. "Do you know where you are?"

Bucky didn't look around. "Home," he said. "Kitchen. Tower. Manhattan. Sir."

Steve didn't completely succeed in hiding his flinch at that last word. It wasn't the businesslike _sir_ of Bucky in combat mode, acknowledging Steve's operational command. It was the faintly pleading _sir_ of a man desperate not to be punished for omitting it.

"Good," Steve said, sweeping his thumb across Bucky's cheek, and Bucky looked slightly relieved but still didn't push into the touch. 

"Do you know who I am?" Steve asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. Steve kept hoping that at some point Bucky would realize from inside a pattern that it was just Steve he was taking orders from, that recognizing him would break the spell. It hadn't ever worked so far, but...

"Steve, sir," Bucky offered.

Steve nodded. Not this time either, then. "Do you remember anything else? Other than my name, do you know who I am to you?"

"Captain America, sir," Bucky said. "You're my friend. You won't hurt me."

Steve could wish Bucky would put those in a different order, but the point of asking that question was to get Bucky's answer, not the answer someone had taught Bucky was correct. That trio of facts was exactly the way Bucky always said it when he was in a pattern, which was a relatively good sign--although the _sir_ he kept carefully including was going to make Steve sick if Bucky didn't stop.

"How about you just call me Steve, since we're friends," Steve suggested. "Not sir. We're off duty, right? Out of uniform."

Steve was intensely thankful that he had already changed into civvies when Bucky's gaze flicked down over his clothes and Bucky gave a fractional nod, except then Bucky said, "Okay, Steve." 

Steve realized that hearing his own name in that cautiously submissive tone was vastly worse than Bucky calling him _sir_. 

He couldn't let himself think about what any of this meant, or who had done this to Bucky. He had to just focus on letting Bucky lead him from behind on this, and try to give Bucky whatever it was he needed to get to the other side of this pattern in one piece.

"Okay," Steve said, as gently and warmly as he could. "Do you know what's going to happen next?"

Bucky gave a hopeful look, but he said, "Whatever you think I deserve, Steve."

Steve's stomach clenched tight as he started to see the shape of this. "Are you thinking... that's why I brought sushi home? Because you did a good job today and now you get a reward?"

Steve didn't think he was ever going to so much as catch a glimpse of sushi without feeling sick after this. 

"Please, Steve," Bucky said earnestly. "Please, may I have some?"

"Of course you can," Steve said, because he couldn't answer any other way even as he realized he was playing into the pattern, maybe even reinforcing it. "You can have some any time you want. Not just as a reward, okay? You always deserve food."

Bucky was in no place to listen to reminders on healthy attitudes toward food and just said, "Yes, Steve. Please?"

"Okay," Steve said. "Come on, over here." He stood up and walked over to the table, but Bucky stayed on the floor, crawling after him.

Steve studied the containers, wondering how the hell to guess what would be good to give Bucky. Steve had chosen mostly beginner's stuff, sashimi and a few basic rolls. Bucky obviously wasn't unfamiliar with sushi at all, and the question of what he might like, or what he was familiar with, was now as much a minefield as any of this. 

Steve looked down at Bucky, who was kneeling at his feet, watching him hopefully with his hands behind his back. 

"Do you know what kind you like?" Steve asked, hopeless but unable to not ask.

"Any kind you want to give me, Steve," Bucky said, not even glancing toward the containers. The kitchen light threw the hollows of cheeks into sharp relief as he looked up hopefully. "Please."

"Okay," Steve said, and made an executive decision. They weren't doing this like this. He might have to follow the pattern, but he didn't have to do it exactly the way Bucky was expecting. It was traditional to eat Japanese food sitting on the floor anyway, wasn't it? Steve stacked up all the containers and sat down, setting the tower of plastic beside him. 

Bucky's gaze didn't so much as flicker toward the food. Steve watched him as he set the containers out again in an arc to the right of his own body, but Bucky's gaze never wavered from Steve's face.

He was, Steve thought miserably, behaving exactly like a well-trained dog, focusing on the person giving the treat instead of the treat itself. He'd noticed before that Bucky wouldn't really look at his food while he was eating. He'd glance long enough to know what it was and to maneuver it onto a fork or spoon, but otherwise he tended to look away. He'd focus on Steve, in fact, if Steve was present. Steve felt sick and stupid, and with a little last gasp of dark humor, he thought, _At least he'll have something interesting to tell his therapist on Monday._

This was bound to all be useful information about Bucky's eating problems, at least. Bucky always remembered what had happened once he came out of a pattern, so he would be able to draw the same conclusions Steve was drawing once he actually came back to himself. In the meantime it looked like Bucky would actually be able to eat the sushi as long as Steve didn't mess this up, and he still desperately needed a square meal. Steve popped the lid off one of the containers and picked up a piece of sushi without looking at it, holding it out to Bucky.

Bucky leaned forward gracefully, still keeping his gaze steady on Steve's face, and let his lips hover just next to the piece of sushi. Of course he wasn't going to--hadn't been allowed to--use his own hands. Of course he expected and therefore needed to be hand-fed. Steve closed his eyes for a second, willing himself to be calm. He had to stay calm. Bucky was watching him so closely; he would know if Steve got angry or upset, and Steve didn't think Bucky would understand why when he was like this.

Sure enough, when he opened his eyes Bucky had drawn away a little from the food and his face was tensed in an anxious expression.

Steve shook his head slightly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bucky. You're doing great. You definitely earned a reward today. Here," he leaned forward, extending his hand to bring the sushi to Bucky's lips again. "Here, eat up."

Bucky's face lost that bit of tension and he opened his mouth, taking the sushi from Steve's fingers with a delicate touch of lips and tongue. His eyes shivered half-closed as he chewed and swallowed, and despite everything Steve felt a surge of visceral pleasure at the sight of Bucky enjoying anything--especially food--that much. 

Bucky swallowed and then looked down at himself, his cheeks going abruptly pink. He kept his left hand behind his back, but brought his right hand around. Steve realized what he was doing a half-second before it actually happened, watching with a sense of horrible inevitability as Bucky closed his hand on his soft cock in a businesslike grip and started stroking himself.

Anger eclipsed the sick horror Steve had been feeling; he should probably have realized this was going to happen when he saw that Bucky was naked, but it was still a shock. This pattern, the way it must have been imposed on Bucky, left Steve wishing very badly that there were anyone left to punish for what they'd done. But they were gone; what they'd left behind was Bucky, and Bucky needed Steve to stay calm right now. 

Steve swallowed, considering words and possible reactions, and finally said, "Bucky?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said, which meant he'd slipped further into the pattern. It could be because he thought Steve was angry; it could be that the taste of sushi--and his hand on his cock, which was already thickening under that metronome-steady stroking--had pulled him deeper into memory. 

"You're doing fine," Steve said, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as he could, "but can you tell me why you're doing that right now?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said, blinking a couple of times before he recited, "the experience of pleasure is necessary for the health of the body and brain. My sexual needs have to be satisfied, just like I have to be fed."

The cadence of Bucky's voice as he parroted the words removed any last vestige of doubt Steve had had about who did this to him. At least Steve was absolutely sure that Pierce had died for what he did, and could never touch Bucky again--but then he didn't need to, because he'd left this hooked into Bucky's brain, this pattern and all the other things that radiated from it.

"Okay," Steve said. "Does that feel good, the way you're touching yourself?"

Bucky's brow furrowed slightly, but he said, "I'm getting hard, sir. I'll be ready soon."

Steve nodded slowly. "You're doing well," he repeated. "Don't worry about how long it takes, just as long as it feels good. Can you do something else for me? I want you to repeat after me, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky said, answer and obedient performance all at once.

Steve smiled slightly, unforced, and launched into the usual warm-up list. "Apple--kite--radio--"

Bucky repeated each word, falling into the rhythm of call and response. 

"Lima--mike--no," Steve went on.

Bucky's mouth opened on silence for just long enough to break the rhythm--his hand stuttered in its motion too--and then he offered, already wincing, "--vember?"

Steve winced too. Bucky didn't have a lot of patterns where he couldn't say the word _no_ , but it was depressingly unsurprising that this was one of them. 

Bucky's face froze into an expression of distress. Steve shook his head quickly, reaching out to put his hand on Bucky's bare right shoulder as he said, "It's fine, that was perfect. You're doing fine."

He felt Bucky shudder a little under his hand; he would have pulled away except that Bucky's hand sped up at the same time. He was jerking himself off with something that looked like actual eagerness, now.

Steve wondered what question he could possibly ask to confirm that Bucky liked being touched--if he could be said to actually like any of this. Bucky literally couldn't say no. He couldn't consent to anything right now. But it wasn't like this was anything Bucky wouldn't enjoy in the normal course of things, either. 

He would be irritated about the pattern itself, but Bucky jerking off while Steve touched him somewhere innocuous was exactly how they'd begun the process of easing back into their old sex life once they were reunited. It was still something they fell back on when Bucky's various internal obstacles wouldn't let him do more, or when neither of them felt like pushing for anything more complicated than some skin contact and an orgasm. This was the easy option, comfortable and familiar. Steve could help Bucky through this; he could make this as good for Bucky as it could be under the circumstances.

Bucky always insisted that he was aware of what was happening during his patterns, even though it was obvious to Steve that he couldn't make any unforced choices while the pattern held him in its grip. Mostly it didn't matter much; in a combat situation there weren't many unforced choices anyway. Here on the kitchen floor, it was unavoidably obscene. Steve couldn't walk away from him, though, or send Bucky away when he seemed frightened at the least sign of disapproval. Ordering him to do anything that directly opposed the pattern would only convince him that he was being punished or having his obedience tested; he could get trapped in a pattern that way, and it would take hours longer for him to come out of it.

"Do you remember who I am?" Steve asked, rubbing his palm gently over the top of Bucky's shoulder, not quite in time with the stroking of Bucky's hand on his cock. 

"Steve," Bucky replied, and then, before Steve could prod him for the rest, "You're Captain America, and you're my friend, and you won't hurt me."

"Yes," Steve said, and he realized he hadn't given Bucky any more sushi after that first bite. It occurred to him simultaneously that it was going to seem like a reward for a correct answer and that he couldn't _not_ give Bucky more food because it might seem like a reward. "Would you like some more sushi?"

"Please, Steve," Bucky said, hand slowing a little on his cock. "I'm ready."

Steve couldn't help flicking a glance down at Bucky's cock. He was all the way hard, Steve could see, and the sick horror was starting to congeal into resignation. Of course that was what _ready_ meant. 

"Here," Steve said, picking up another piece of whatever he'd given Bucky the first time--he'd liked that, as far as Steve could tell. "Go ahead, take it."

Bucky again took the piece delicately from Steve's fingers, and Steve realized that he kept his hand still, just cradling his cock, while he chewed and swallowed. Steve rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead, half-hiding his face for just a second, until Bucky started jerking off again, even more slowly now. Making it last, Steve thought. He had to stay ready if he wanted to eat, was that it? 

"Bucky?" Steve said. "Do you know what it means when you say that I won't hurt you?"

Steve watched in fascination as Bucky visibly suppressed an impulse to roll his eyes. 

"It means you won't inflict pain or injury on me," Bucky said. And Steve caught the edge of a longsuffering sergeant-to-officer tone this time as he tacked on, "Sir."

Steve grinned. He'd deserved that, and he was glad that Bucky was finding a way to dish it out, even from where he was. It meant that Bucky was still _there_ somewhere. 

"So if I won't hurt you," Steve said, "what will happen if you disobey me, or do something I don't like while you're getting your reward?"

All expression blanked out, like a switch had been flipped, and Bucky said, "Sir?" in a perfectly expressionless monotone. 

Shit. Too far.

"Bucky," Steve said. "I won't hurt you. And I'm your friend, right? Friends don't punish each other. If you make a mistake and it causes a problem, I'll tell you, so we don't have the same problem again. But other than that, I don't mind if you make mistakes. We're at home, we're off duty. It's okay to make mistakes when it's just you and me. We're friends. This isn't a test."

Bucky's expression shifted from blank to slightly puzzled, but it was a good sign that he was letting himself show that much. It meant that Steve hadn't scared him off into some totally irretrievable area of the pattern.

"Sir," Bucky said, but Steve was probably imagining the hint of _sure, whatever you say_ humoring in his tone. 

"Yeah," Steve sighed, "okay. Here, you want some more sushi?"

"Please, sir," Bucky said, and this time Steve could definitely hear relief in his tone, and the way he swayed slightly toward Steve, already parting his lips. Getting fed was the easy part, obviously. Bucky felt better when Steve adhered to the script. If what he could deduce about the script made his skin crawl, that was Steve's problem.

Steve picked up another piece of sushi and held it to Bucky's lips. He let himself look Bucky up and down, checking for any nonverbal cues Bucky might be throwing off while he chewed and swallowed. Bucky had stopped jerking off again; he was still gripping his cock, and Steve's eyes narrowed. There was something off about his grip, or his cock, both of which were almost too familiar to him to really see when he looked. He caught it when Bucky's hand started moving again: the dry whisper of skin on skin, which made him recognize that the blood-flush of Bucky's erection was a slightly different pink than it ought to be. 

"Bucky," Steve said, already knowing that this approach wasn't going to get him far. "Does that feel good? Your hand?"

"I'll stay hard, sir," Bucky said. "I can stay hard as long as you want me to."

Steve nodded, and only then realized that his gaze had stayed on Bucky's dry hand working his cock. He dragged his eyes up to meet Bucky's and resigned himself to giving orders as gently as he could. "How about you stop for a second and lick your fingers."

Bucky obeyed instantly, and Steve tried to keep his voice steady and calm, just giving instructions. It could be anything; he could be telling Bucky how to assemble furniture. "Get your hand nice and wet, that will make everything feel better. Go ahead when you're ready, and stop and lick your fingers again whenever the friction starts to get painful, okay?"

The wet sound of Bucky jerking off fell into a faster, more familiar rhythm, and Steve couldn't help looking down again to watch Bucky working himself over. The sight fit perfectly now with his long collection of memories of Bucky--in bed, in a thousand places, though never on the kitchen floor that he could remember. There was a first time for everything.

Steve reached for another piece of sushi to make himself stop thinking and stop watching Bucky jerking off, and Bucky took it easily from his fingers, not even needing to be prompted this time. He chewed more slowly, though, and swallowing looked laborious. Steve swallowed himself in sympathy and felt the effort in his own dry throat. He shook his head and stood up, then had to stop when Bucky froze.

"It's okay, Bucky, you're doing fine," Steve said, and Bucky finished swallowing and licked his fingers again. "I'm just going to get us some water, I'll be right back."

"Yes, sir," Bucky agreed, and the slick sound of Bucky jerking off followed Steve across the kitchen while he went through the weirdly mundane motions of getting a couple of glasses down and filling them both with water. He took a sip of his own while he stood at the sink, and it reminded him that however awful he felt about what was happening to Bucky, he was desperately hungry himself. 

Steve gulped more water and topped off his glass, and knelt down again, mirroring Bucky. He set his own glass by the food containers and held out the other to Bucky. 

Bucky glanced at it, but quickly returned his gaze to Steve's face, making no move to take it. Steve thought about ordering him to, spared half a second to wish that Bucky didn't have an unshakable grudge against straws as cousins to feeding tubes, and then he steeled himself and raised the glass to Bucky's lips.

Bucky's eyes actually fell all the way shut as Steve tipped up the glass to let him drink. He gulped eagerly, throat working in quick bobs, a trickle escaping down his cheek. Steve felt bad taking the water away after only a few swallows, but Bucky's stomach, shrunken as it was, wouldn't stand for him drinking too much at once. 

Bucky opened his eyes quickly as Steve took the glass away, watching him anxiously. Had he not even been allowed to close his eyes? 

"You're doing fine," Steve said. "Really well. How's your stomach feel?"

Bucky frowned--his hand moving only slowly on himself as he considered--and he said, "Doesn't hurt, sir. Still hungry, please."

"Give the water a minute to settle," Steve said gently. "You can have more, I promise, but I want you to wait."

Steve's own stomach gurgled loudly enough to hear--Bucky's gaze flicked toward it--and Steve thought about how awful he'd feel eating in front of Bucky when he'd just told Bucky to wait, and then the idea came to him all at once. He wasn't sure if it was actually as good an idea as it seemed, or if he was just hungry enough to do something kind of stupid, but he thought it would work out all right either way.

"Guess you can tell I'm hungry, too," Steve said, and Bucky's eyes moved down toward Steve's stomach again, then back up to meet his gaze.

"Yes, sir," Bucky said tentatively, and Steve realized that this was, of course, way off script. He thought he could still get there, but he had to be careful with Bucky; this pattern made him terribly sensitive to the possibility of punishment, and Steve couldn't leave him too uncertain.

"Why don't you pick out a piece of sushi for me?" Steve asked. "I'll feed you as much as you want, but it's only fair if you feed me, too."

Bucky blinked at him, looking totally at a loss, and Steve rephrased it a little more firmly. "Pick something out and give it to me, Bucky. It doesn't matter what, I like all of them. But I want you to look at them and choose one for me."

Bucky bit his lip, still slowly jerking off, and then cautiously--glancing back at Steve repeatedly to check--he actually looked over at the containers of sushi. Steve watched his face the whole time, so he saw the moment when wariness gave way to concentration on the task at hand, a little crease appearing between Bucky's eyebrows as he studied the different varieties of sushi on offer.

Bucky looked over at Steve without turning his head, and said, "Sir?"

Steve nodded encouragingly, but Bucky's lips compressed in a hint of frustration that made Steve's heart beat faster. 

"Which hand, sir?" Bucky asked, and Steve's mouth fell open, glancing down at Bucky's spit-wet right hand, still moving over his cock.

"Your left," Steve said, dragging his eyes back up to Bucky's, only to catch Bucky flicking a glance toward Steve's crotch. Steve ignored the stirring he felt; that was even less the point here than Steve's dinner. Bucky reached out with his shining left hand, popped a plastic lid off, and picked up a piece of inari.

Steve smiled a little--Bucky had gone straight for the biggest piece he could see to offer to Steve--and said, "That's gonna be two bites, so hang on to the end for me, okay?"

Bucky froze with his hand outstretched, and then nodded slightly as he understood what Steve was asking for. His eyes, a little wider than before, stayed fixed intently on Steve's mouth as he extended the inari. Steve put his own hands behind his back and leaned in to take a bite. He let his eyes close as he chewed, too hungry to even notice the tangle of flavors, sweet and vinegar and vegetables all together. When he opened his eyes again Bucky's expression had turned to something Steve couldn't quite read, intent and interested and not scared at all.

Bucky shifted the half of the inari still in his hand toward Steve's lips, and Steve took it, not as gracefully as Bucky took sushi from Steve's fingers, winding up with the tips of Bucky's metal fingers briefly in his mouth. Bucky's eyes widened a little at that, flicking down Steve's body again, but Steve just occupied himself with chewing and swallowing and let his own gaze fall away from Bucky. 

When his mouth was clear, Steve picked up his water glass and took a sip, and only when he'd set it down did he look at Bucky. He was jerking off again--Steve wasn't sure if he had ever stopped--and had his left hand behind his back again. He still looked more relaxed than he had from the start, and Steve smiled a little and said, "How's your stomach? Still hungry?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said promptly, letting his lips part, and Steve grabbed the second-to-last piece of the salmon avocado roll and held it to Bucky's lips. He was torn between admiring the delicate way Bucky took it from his fingers and knowing that he'd been trained to do that, just that perfectly, with no more margin for error than he was allowed in aiming a rifle.

Steve had always thought Bucky looked good aiming a rifle, too.

"That's good," Steve murmured, watching Bucky eat--he didn't think he was ever going to get enough of the beauty of Bucky eating so effortlessly. "That's perfect, you're doing great."

Something that could almost have been amusement passed across Bucky's face as he swallowed--he probably hadn't gotten quite this much positive reinforcement during the original version of this pattern. Steve didn't care as long as he wasn't deviating from the pattern in a way that scared Bucky. Deviating in a way that amused him, however briefly he let that reaction show, was gold.

In the next second that expression was gone, blanked out into quiet attentiveness again as Bucky resumed jerking off. His gaze flicked down to Steve's stomach again. Bucky wouldn't ask, wouldn't anticipate the order, but he was ready to be told to pick out another piece of sushi. He'd already absorbed that into the pattern. Good. 

"Yeah," Steve said, waving toward the trays. "Can you pick out another one for me? A different one this time," he added, when Bucky's gaze went straight to the remaining pieces of inari. Steve wanted to let Bucky try at least one piece of that, but it was probably more important to get him fish and avocado than rice and veggies. There was only one piece of the salmon roll left anyway; maybe after that. 

Bucky hesitated again, and Steve found himself irresistibly memorizing the sight of him like that, on his knees, hand still moving slowly over his spit-slicked erection, frowning in thought like he was looking at a tactical map while he tried to choose between three kinds of sashimi or a couple of sushi rolls. Bucky glanced toward Steve as he started to reach for a piece of rainbow roll, and Steve nodded and leaned toward him. 

"Put some soy sauce on that for me, will you?"

Bucky picked up the little plastic packet with his left hand. Before Steve could apologize for the awkwardness of the task or offer to do it for him, Bucky tore a tiny corner off with his teeth. A couple of dark drops escaped onto his lips, but Bucky ignored them in favor of carefully applying some soy sauce to a green piece before he raised it to Steve's mouth. Steve parted his lips for it, and when he didn't have to bite it seemed simpler to extend his tongue a little and let Bucky do the rest. As Bucky dropped the sushi neatly into his mouth it occurred to Steve a little sacrilegiously that it was exactly like receiving Communion. He was on his knees and everything. 

Steve closed his mouth and chewed, but Bucky didn't take his hand away, brushing metal fingers against Steve's chin. 

"Lick," Bucky said as Steve swallowed, and then, his eyes going wide, he hastily added, "Sir?"

Steve obeyed gladly, flicking his tongue out over Bucky's metal fingers, licking away a few stray drops of soy sauce. The drop on Bucky's chin had rolled down, about to fall, and Steve raised his own hand, wiping it up with his thumb. When his thumb reached Bucky's lower lip, Bucky's tongue flicked out to touch it and then Bucky went still.

"Go on," Steve said. "Lick."

Bucky's tongue swiped slowly over the pad of Steve's thumb. Bucky's eyes stayed intent on Steve's through the first pass, but when he licked again, covering the whole length of Steve's thumb, he looked down, eyes on Steve's hand, his eyelashes almost meeting his cheeks.

"Bucky," Steve said, and his voice came out unsteady. Bucky looked up at him again, the tip of his tongue lingering at the very end of Steve's thumb, and then Bucky shifted in, just a little, his lips in an O, offering his mouth to Steve's hand. To Steve.

Bucky had loved giving head, before. Steve's cock twitched at the sight of Bucky's open mouth, taught by years of experience to know what that offer meant. 

He also knew that Bucky--much more to Bucky's frustration than Steve's--hadn't been able to go down on him since they'd been reunited. Bucky tensed up badly every time he tried, knowing it was going to trigger something but not knowing what. Steve had even thought, the handful of times he let Bucky try before he convinced him it wasn't worth it to force the issue, that it might have something to do with the way Bucky had a hard time eating. It all had to do with putting things in his mouth. 

Well, Steve had been right. For whatever that was worth now.

All the pieces fit into place. Whatever line Bucky had parroted about being rewarded, about the experience of pleasure and getting fed, it was blindingly clear that this whole pattern had been designed to get somebody--to get _Pierce_ off. Bucky naked, on his knees, begging for every bite of food, waiting to be told how to touch himself, and then this. Of course this was where it was all going. Of course Pierce had poisoned that, too.

"That's enough, Bucky," Steve said, forcing a gentle voice out of a throat clutched tight with a fresh rush of horror and rage and the cold calculation that had to follow. He knew what this was. He knew exactly where this was going. He knew that Bucky had no choice in it, and Bucky was still looking at Steve from under his lashes, flicking glances down at Steve's crotch, licking his lips as he jerked himself off.

"Here," Steve said quietly, buying time, and picked up the last piece of the salmon roll to offer it to Bucky. Bucky opened his mouth and waited for it, the same way Steve had with the last bite, and Steve felt the same sacrilege in reverse as he laid it gently--reverently, in all of this abomination--on Bucky's tongue. Bucky was the one thing that mattered here; getting Bucky through all of this, getting him fed on a day when he needed badly to eat, letting him feel safe, letting him feel in truth the pleasure that had been a hollow manipulation with Pierce.

When Bucky had swallowed the piece of sushi and gone back to jerking off, still at an unhurried pace, Steve said quietly, "Do you know how this goes, Bucky? Can you tell me what you think I'm going to want you to do next? I'm just asking you to make a guess--if I want something else I'll just tell you. No punishment. Can you guess for me?"

Bucky bit his lip, the little crease in his forehead returning as he considered. "If I'm good, then you'll let me suck you off. And when--if I'm good at that, and you come, maybe you'll let me have some more food. And then, if you tell me to, if you think I've earned it, maybe I'll get to come too. Sir."

It made a sick kind of sense. Everything else in this pattern would depend on Bucky feeling like he'd earned it by making his commander come; Pierce had engineered this, and of course he would have set it up to put his own enjoyment first. Steve could keep dragging this out, avoiding getting too deep into it himself, but sooner or later Bucky wouldn't be able to eat anymore, or at least wouldn't be able to enjoy eating, without feeling like he'd earned it. 

They were probably at that point now, judging from the way Bucky had his gaze fixed worriedly on Steve's crotch; he could obviously tell that Steve wasn't hard. If Steve tried to push the pattern too far from its natural center, he would push Bucky out of the anticipation of reward and into anticipation of punishment. Steve could order him to eat, of course. He could order Bucky to do anything. He could order Bucky to put his clothes back on and sit in the corner until he was feeling more like himself, if he didn't mind Bucky obeying in a state of abject terror.

Steve had to order Bucky to do whatever Bucky would hate having done the least, when he came out of this. Whatever Steve chose, there was a chance it would be the wrong thing. If he tried to stretch the pattern too far, it would recoil on Bucky and hurt him. If he followed the pattern too closely, he risked becoming just another person taking advantage of Bucky's helplessness for his own pleasure.

When Steve considered what Bucky was going to say about this later, though, he knew that that last concern was all his own, and not one he could really entertain on Bucky's behalf. Bucky had never had any trouble telling the difference between Steve and Pierce, or any of his Hydra handlers, even when he was spending more time locked in one pattern or another than he spent entirely lucid. Bucky hated getting stuck in these patterns, but he fully expected Steve to step into place as his commander when he did. Given that a square meal and a round of sex would have been a pretty ideal way to end this day, he thought Bucky would rather get there via the pattern than not at all--and if Steve spooked him into spending the next twelve hours curled up in a bathtub waiting to be put on ice, Bucky was going to be rightfully pretty goddamn irritated with him over it. 

It was a pretty simple decision, when he thought of it like that. If he was wrong--if Bucky was angry later, if Steve still managed to screw this up and scare him--he'd take responsibility for making the wrong call. For now, he'd just have to make the best of it. 

"That sounds about right," Steve said, and saw some of the anxiety bleed out of Bucky's posture. "We're going to do things a little differently this time, though. The way I like to do things. Do you remember who I am?"

"Steve," Bucky said, as Steve reached for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off. Bucky's eyes went a little bit round.

"Yep," Steve agreed, sitting down and folding himself up to take off his boots and socks. "You've seen me naked before plenty of times, haven't you?"

Bucky blinked, his mouth falling open, and Steve could see his brain getting stuck on the incongruity of what he remembered and the current pattern. It hadn't taken long at all for Steve to say the wrong thing. 

"Hey," Steve shifted back onto his knees and grabbed a piece of sashimi. "Here, have some more food."

Bucky's uncertainty fell away as his mouth opened, and Steve laid the folded piece of tuna neatly on his tongue. While Bucky chewed and swallowed, Steve got his jeans undone and squirmed out of them without standing up. The tile of the floor was chilly against his ass, but this position left him looking up at Bucky. Steve figured he would stick with this as long as he could get away with it.

Bucky was jerking off again, but his eyes moved restlessly over Steve, like he had too much territory to keep an eye on. Like he didn't know where to start. 

"You're doing fine, Bucky," Steve said softly. "If you want to make me feel good, you can touch me anywhere. I'll like anything you want to do--your hands, your mouth, whatever you want. It's just like the sushi, there's no wrong choice. I want whatever you want to give me, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said, and when Steve stopped talking Bucky's eyes dropped from his and raked once more, decisively, over Steve's body. Bucky dropped onto his hands and knees, leaning close. Steve felt blood surge toward his cock, but Bucky didn't bend down any lower--just ducked his head to Steve's chest, licking firmly across Steve's nipple.

"Oh," Steve exhaled. "Oh, yeah, that's--that's good. That's--"

Bucky licked again and then bit down, delicately, just enough pressure to make Steve lose track of what he was saying. Bucky let up after a few seconds and rubbed his cheek against the sensitive flesh instead. The sandpaper-scrape of his five o'clock shadow made Steve feel like sparks were skittering across his whole body, and then Bucky licked again.

Steve could feel himself getting harder every second. He didn't want to touch himself, in case Bucky took it as direction, so he sagged back a little, bracing his hands on the floor. Bucky followed, pressing his face into Steve's chest, nuzzling along his sternum and then licking across the opposite nipple, biting all around it instead of directly on it.

Steve squirmed and only realized he'd picked one hand up when it was already in the air. He redirected his touch to Bucky's hair, meaning just to pet, not to push him anywhere, but Bucky went still as soon as Steve made contact. 

Steve sagged back a little further, getting a look at Bucky's face; his eyes were half-lidded, his mouth slightly open, but after a second he realized Steve was looking at him. He met Steve's gaze with a hopeful look and pressed slightly into Steve's hand.

"Oh," Steve said, smiling helplessly and rubbing his fingers gently against Bucky's scalp. He couldn't not give Bucky something he asked for, even as silently and carefully as he was asking now. "We take turns, is that it?"

Bucky's eyelids shivered halfway down, and then he bit down on his lip and said, "Please, sir?"

"Yeah, of course," Steve said softly, shifting a little so he could bring up his other hand and run them both through Bucky's hair, rubbing symmetrical circles on his temples and down to the base of his skull where the tension gathered sometimes. Bucky relaxed into it, still not quite pushing into Steve's touch but clearly welcoming it, until Steve's hands shifted down to the back of his neck and Bucky suddenly went rigid, face screwing up and his whole body stiffening.

Steve jerked his hands away, then realized what had happened. Bucky had his hand curled gingerly around his cock, which was flushed dark and dripping, his balls drawn up tight at the base. Bucky was trying desperately not to come.

If Bucky came before Steve, then he'd have violated the order of things. And once Bucky came, the pattern would have come to an end, and Steve might not be able to get Bucky to eat anything.

"Okay, Bucky," Steve said gently. "You're doing fine. You can take your hand away if you want to."

Bucky yanked his hand off his cock like he'd been touching a hot stove.

"Okay," Steve said. "Here, why don't you have a drink of water." He held the glass to Bucky's lips, careful not to touch him in the process, and tipped the glass only slightly, so that Bucky had a series of small sips before Steve took the glass away.

Bucky panted, watching him with fever-dazed eyes as Steve set the glass down.

"You're doing fine," Steve repeated. He prompted Bucky through giving him another piece of sushi, and fed Bucky another one in turn, and by the time they'd finished with that Bucky was looking Steve up and down, shifting his weight in Steve's direction. 

"Sir?" Bucky said.

Steve leaned back on his hands again. "My turn, huh? Same as before, you can touch me anywhere you want. I'll like anything."

Bucky scooted closer on his knees, and set his right hand on Steve's hip. Steve tensed in anticipation, but when Bucky leaned in, he kept his head high, aiming for Steve's chest again. Steve tilted his chin up, arching his back to push closer. Bucky rubbed his cheek across Steve's chest, then licked a line up his sternum and pressed his mouth to the base of Steve's throat.

Steve closed his eyes and kept breathing, concentrating on holding still under Bucky's mouth, but a scrape of teeth made him shiver. It was still _Bucky_ in there, his mouth, the way he knew Steve liked to be touched, even if it was wrapped up in a strangely compliant package.

"That's good," Steve murmured, and Bucky closed his teeth on the muscle of Steve's throat, making his breath catch again, making him unavoidably aware of his cock getting harder. That was good; Bucky was supposed to get him off, so the sooner Steve got off the sooner Bucky wouldn't be worrying about that anymore.

Steve couldn't help squirming a little, though he remembered to keep his hands on the floor this time. Bucky shifted, dragging his mouth up the line of the vein in his throat. Steve could feel his pulse pounding against the soft pressure of Bucky's tongue, and he knew Bucky had to feel it too. He tilted his head to expose that line to Bucky, giving up all his weaknesses. Bucky's teeth closed on his skin again, just below his jaw, and Steve shuddered, his cock aching just from this.

"Yeah," Steve breathed, "Yeah, Buck--" Bucky let up the bite, licking at the same spot, and then raked his teeth across it. Steve arched into it, which earned him Bucky's left hand on his right thigh, cool fingers spread wide to press him gently back down to the floor. Steve squirmed under the touch--he didn't want Bucky to think he was supposed to let go--and Bucky pressed his teeth harder against Steve's throat, forcing him to tilt his head back, digging in enough to mark him at least for a moment.

His heart was pounding, and he could feel every beat of it in his cock, a few crucial inches away from Bucky's cool, unyielding fingers. "Bucky..."

Bucky took his mouth off Steve's neck, and it was reflex to tilt his head toward him, seeking a kiss.

Steve was stopped short by the blank, baffled look in Bucky's eyes, the uncertain twitch of his lips.

All of that had been Bucky using what he knew about how to touch Steve to arouse him as ordered. Kissing was something different, something that didn't fit the pattern, and Steve was glad, somewhere on the other side of the sharp, frozen awareness. He was glad Pierce hadn't made Bucky do _that_ along with everything else.

Mostly, though, he needed to get Bucky out of this before he tried to give Steve what he wanted and kiss him.

"Hey," Steve said, cupping his hand to Bucky's cheek. Bucky's eyes half-closed immediately, and Steve said, "Yeah, we're okay."

He wanted to keep stalling--to touch Bucky until he'd driven Bucky to the brink again, to feed him more or eat more, to do anything that wasn't pushing this through along a logical path to the goal. 

But Bucky had to get him off for this to go right, and Steve couldn't keep dragging that out indefinitely. There was no way to be gentle enough to make it actually voluntary on Bucky's part. At some point he just had to give the order.

Steve dropped his hand from Bucky's cheek and leaned back again, but instead of putting his hand on the floor, he wrapped it around his cock. Bucky's eyes tracked the motion, then snapped to Steve's face, obviously waiting for direction.

"Come here," Steve said, wiggling his fingers a little before closing them on his cock again. Bucky folded over, flattening himself so that his chest was nearly on the floor and he was looking up at Steve through his eyelashes, his mouth exactly level with Steve's hand.

Steve's mouth went dry and his cock throbbed. He squeezed reflexively, then said, "Do you know what you're supposed to do next?"

Bucky's mouth tilted up in a knowing smirk that went straight to Steve's balls, and that made it easy to say, "Go on, then."

Bucky lifted his head a little and Steve angled his cock down, not quite smacking the head against Bucky's mouth. Bucky leaned in the last fraction of an inch, pressing his lips to the head of Steve's cock in a soft, sweet kiss, his eyes fixed on Steve's. There was no sign now of the frantic, formless tension that had seized Bucky the last time he tried this; he was all easy grace and pure confidence.

When he opened his mouth it wasn't to take Steve's cock in but to lick over the head, and Steve groaned half from the wet, firm caress and half from memory. How many times had Bucky started with that same move? Steve could have been sixteen, braced against a too-thin wall and biting the heel of his hand while Bucky knelt between his feet. Steve dragged his hand up in a slow, tight stroke until his knuckle pressed against Bucky's lower lip. 

Bucky's eyes sunk half closed and he licked around the circle of Steve's finger and thumb, a teasing hot touch. When Steve slid his hand back down Bucky followed partway, taking the head of Steve's cock into his mouth and sucking softly.

"God," Steve said, the word breaking in the middle as Bucky pulled off to lick up the underside of his cock, right over his fingers, and then sucked him again. "Bucky, God, you're so g--" 

Steve's voice failed completely as Bucky's metal hand slid up the inside of his thigh, sending a wracking shiver of need through him that combined oddly with the old familiarity of Bucky's mouth on him. But it was all Bucky, old and new together.

Old and new and under the influence of Pierce's brainwashing, and Steve was distracted from wishing the man in hell by being savagely glad that Bucky was doing this now with him, regardless of who had made him do it before. Bucky was home now, safe, free--

Bucky's mouth moved down on his cock, taking him steadily further in. Steve's thoughts dissolved into pure sensation, the wet heat of Bucky's mouth taking him apart while the cool rigidity of Bucky's left hand flirted ever closer to his balls. Steve took his hand away from his cock, giving Bucky free rein.

Bucky glanced up at Steve, meeting his gaze and holding it as he finally brought his left hand up to Steve's crotch. Steve struggled to keep his eyes open and focused on Bucky at that cool metal touch. Bucky wrapped his fingers delicately around Steve's balls, the heel of his hand pressing against the base of Steve's cock. He held absolutely still under that touch, and Bucky stared up at him intently while he took Steve's cock deeper into his mouth. The contrast of the liquid heat of Bucky's mouth and the cool restraining touch of his hand was dizzying, and Steve pressed both hands flat to the floor, trying to remember how to breathe. At least Bucky wasn't going to have to do much work to get him off.

Steve watched the stretch of Bucky's lips around his cock as it disappeared into his mouth. He couldn't quite see the moment when Bucky's lower lip pressed against his metal hand, but he knew when it happened, the two touches meeting on the underside of his cock while Bucky's face was buried in his lap. 

"Jesus, Buck," Steve whispered, feeling mesmerized and half-drunk on the pleasure of it. "Don't forget to breathe, okay?"

Bucky pulled off as slowly as he'd gone down, and looked up to meet Steve's eyes when he had just the head of Steve's cock in his mouth. As Steve watched, he took in a deep breath through his nose, and then worked his way right back down Steve's cock, taking him deep again, pressing against the top of his throat. Steve's whole body remembered that deep, secret touch, and nothing else had ever felt like knowing he was so deep inside Bucky.

"God," Steve gasped, and he didn't think, just reached out, burying his hand in Bucky's hair. Bucky stiffened, starting to pull off, and Steve said, "Don't stop, Bucky, please--please don't stop, just--"

Bucky seemed to press down farther, his body loosening a little while his metal hand shifted until he had his fingers pressed up behind Steve's balls, adding that little burst of sensation to the feeling of Bucky swallowing around him. Steve gave in to it, falling into the tide of pleasure. He took his hand off Bucky's hair so he wouldn't pull--or push--and let himself fall back on his elbows as his cock jerked in Bucky's mouth. Bucky swallowed and swallowed around him, his fingers giving pressure on Steve's prostate like he would just keep pushing the orgasm out of him indefinitely. Steve thought _extra calories_ in the white-out daze of coming and his own thought startled a laugh out of him.

He fell back completely on the kitchen floor as it ended, and Bucky didn't pull off, just stayed there with Steve's cock in his mouth until Steve picked his head up and said, "Breathe, Bucky."

Bucky obeyed, taking his mouth all the way off Steve's cock this time. He didn't move otherwise, still crouched on his knees and one hand over Steve, his left hand still cradling Steve's balls while he panted. His mouth was very red, and Steve wanted desperately to kiss him, and reminded himself that he couldn't. Not now, not like this. That wasn't what this was. 

"Sit back," Steve directed, and he waited until Bucky was sitting on his heels to push himself back up to sit. Bucky's cock was still hard, the head pressed right up against his belly, and Steve was reminded that Bucky had always really gotten into giving head. Steve couldn't remember him ever coming from just that, but as sensitive as he seemed to be right now Steve's touch on his hair could have gotten him dangerously close.

Steve kept his hands to himself for a moment, giving Bucky a few seconds to breathe, and then Steve picked up Bucky's water glass and held it to his shiny-wet lips. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help watching Bucky gulping down water. 

"Here, try some of this," Steve said as he took the water away, reaching for a slice of bright pink ginger. "Get the taste out of your mouth."

Bucky licked his lips--he hadn't ever minded the taste, Steve knew--but he opened his mouth obediently for the ginger and crunched it down unhesitatingly.

"Stomach okay?" Steve asked, calculating how much Bucky had eaten so far, how much more he might be able to get him to take before he was in danger of getting sick. 

Bucky nodded. "Still hungry, sir, please."

"If it hurts or you feel sick, I want you to tell me right away," Steve said firmly. "This is supposed to be good, okay? It's not supposed to hurt. I don't want you to hurt."

Bucky nodded again. "Yes, sir."

Steve fed him a piece of inari, savoring every second of watching him enjoy it, and when Bucky was finished and his hand drifted hesitantly toward his cock, Steve said, "Nope. My turn now. You did it for me, so I get to do this for you, right?"

Bucky's eyes went wide, darkening visibly with desire. "Please, sir?"

"Yeah, Buck," Steve said, reaching out to settle both hands on Bucky's thighs. "I'll take care of you."

Bucky's breath caught and his knees slid wider apart as Steve stroked his palms up the hard muscles of his thighs, his thumbs tracing parallel lines up toward his crotch. Steve could see a fine shiver go through Bucky, and his cock twitched at Steve's touch. Bucky bit down on his lip and rose into the touch just the tiniest fraction. 

"Yeah, that's it," Steve murmured as his hands reached Bucky's hips and his thumbs trailed along the crease of his groin on either side. "Beautiful. If you think you're about to come I want you to say _help_ , okay? I don't want you to come yet."

He dragged his hands down Bucky's thighs, feeling them tremble, and made it nearly all the way back up, his thumbs dragging up the insides of his thighs again where the skin was nearly hairless and soft as velvet, before Bucky gritted out, " _Help_. Sir."

Steve jerked his hands away and said, "Good, perfect, that was--God, Bucky, you're gorgeous. Take some deep breaths for me, okay? Calm down a little bit."

Bucky nodded obediently, breathing with careful attention until Steve could feed him another bite of sushi and then start all over again. He went for Bucky's nipples the next time, taking his cue from Bucky's first choice of ways to touch him. He licked teasingly and then bit down the way Bucky liked--enough to hurt a little--and Bucky arched under him almost before his teeth were in place, gasping out, "Help help help!"

Steve pulled back fast, and Bucky was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth wider. Steve wanted to _wreck_ him, push him over the edge and just keep going. It would be so easy right now. He was so responsive, he would feel so much and it would be so good, but--

Steve closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a breath and get it together.

"Sir?" Bucky said in a small voice.

"Doing fine, Bucky," Steve said firmly. "Give me a minute. How's your stomach?"

Bucky hesitated long enough for Steve to open his eyes and catch the uncertain expression on his face, and then he said cautiously, "Getting full?"

"Okay," Steve said. "Good, it's good you told me. How about one more bite now, and you can have more later if you want it."

"Yes, sir," Bucky said promptly, his mouth falling open, and Steve picked another piece of sushi more or less at random and dropped it on Bucky's tongue. Bucky ate it with just as much evidence of pleasure as he'd shown before.

Steve offered him the water again when he was done, cutting him off at just a sip, and then said, "Take a few more deep breaths for me, okay?"

Bucky nodded and took slow, visible breaths. When he still didn't look sick or otherwise uncomfortable, Steve figured it was time to finish this off. 

"It's my turn to make you come now," Steve announced, and Bucky's eyes went wide again. Steve was going to have to put even less work into this than Bucky had, but he wanted to return the favor. He had a feeling it would shock the hell out of Bucky, and no matter how useless an impulse it was, Steve wanted to make sure Bucky knew he was nothing like anyone else who had ever fed him sushi. 

"You can finish whenever you're ready," Steve said, dropping onto all fours, exactly like Bucky had, and Bucky's eyes went even wider. "If you want to hold off and enjoy it for a while, you can, but when you're ready to come, that's up to you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky managed, his voice a little strangled. Steve grinned and winked and then leaned in, licking a stripe up the underside of Bucky's cock.

Bucky let out a sob, and his whole body went tight as piano wire. Steve didn't bother playing around, just got his mouth on Bucky's cock and sucked--he'd never had the kind of patience for this that Bucky did, but Bucky assured him he made up for it with raw enthusiasm. 

"Please," Bucky gasped, and Steve sucked again, tasted the bitterness of pre-come and felt the particular rigidity on his tongue that meant Bucky was a breath away. Steve went down further, setting his hand on Bucky's thigh to steady himself, and Bucky gasped "help help help" and came in pulses over Steve's tongue. 

Steve sucked him through it, swallowing gamely as he listened to Bucky's gasps. He finally pulled off when Bucky was done, and Bucky was staring at him in a kind of baffled wonder. 

Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said cautiously, trying not to let too much hope into his voice, "Bucky?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky said, making a visible effort to pull himself together, and Steve's stomach sank a little.

"No, hey, no, we're all done now," Steve said gently. "Relax. Just--sit right there, you're fine. I'm going to clean up a little."

Bucky sat back on his heels again with his hands resting lightly on his thighs, watching Steve with an expression of confusion blunted by the aftermath of pleasure. He didn't look like he knew how to relax, but he didn't look upset, so Steve would take it. 

Steve gathered up the containers from the floor, transferring them up to the table before he stood to close them up. He ate the last few pieces of the rainbow roll almost without intending to, and then gave in and finished the inari too. One less container to put away. The rest of what was left he put back in the opaque bag he'd brought it home in, wrapping it up carefully before he put it in the fridge so that Bucky wouldn't see the sushi and get knocked back into the pattern the next time he went to get juice from the fridge. 

By the time he'd tidied everything away Steve was feeling like he'd had a reasonably satisfying meal, and the exhaustion of the action he'd seen with the Avengers and everything that had happened since was weighing on him. He finished washing his hands and looked over at Bucky still kneeling on the kitchen floor, watching him intently. "Come on. Let's go in the other room."

Bucky crawled after him, which quashed any faint hope Steve might have had that he was gradually coming back to himself. Steve sat down on the couch where Bucky had been when he walked in, and the feeling of the velvet-soft upholstery made him conscious for an instant that he was still naked, but he wasn't putting clothes back on until Bucky did.

"Come here," Steve said, leaning back into the corner of the couch. "Up on the couch. You can sit as far or as close as--"

Steve cut off there, because Bucky had climbed up decisively and was half in Steve's lap, leaning bodily against him. No more need to ration touches, apparently. Steve gave a little not-unhappy grunt as Bucky's weight settled against his lungs, and he squirmed beneath him and swung his legs up, tangling them with Bucky's. Bucky rearranged himself slightly so that his body covered Steve's all the way down, and Steve managed to tug the blanket from the back of the couch down over both of them. 

"Okay," Steve said. "This is good. Nap if you want, it's been a long day."

"Yes, Steve," Bucky mumbled, the words blurred against Steve's shoulder. Steve closed his eyes and let that be enough for now. 

He didn't sleep, and he didn't think Bucky did either, but just lying still together was good, warm and touching and not needing it to be anything else. Steve reran the fight in his head, evaluating the team's performance and what they could do better next time, because it was infinitely more soothing than thinking over what had just happened in the kitchen. His thoughts had taken on a drifting half-dream quality, planning how to react to an avalanche of sushi rice in Midtown like a molasses flood, when Bucky rubbed his nose against Steve's shoulder like he was scratching an itch and said, "Is there supposed to be something green with sushi? Looks kind of like guacamole?"

Steve closed his eyes, relief and more horror arriving together. "Yeah. Wasabi. It's really spicy."

"Oh," Bucky said. "That's it, then."

Steve waited a second, but Bucky didn't say anything else, and Steve decided he didn't want to ask about the wasabi. He didn't really need to. 

"I'm sorry I--" Steve started, even though he was pretty sure Bucky wasn't mad, given that he was still lying sprawled across Steve.

Sure enough, Bucky interrupted. "The rest of that sentence better be 'didn't get the kind of sushi with caviar so you could finally find out what it tastes like,' because you don't have anything else to apologize for."

Steve exhaled. He knew he should leave it alone, but he couldn't quite shrug it off. "You couldn't say no, Buck. Even if you knew it was me, you were acting like I was--like you had to--"

Bucky snorted. "Doesn't stop you when it's a mission."

Steve tensed at that, and craned to try to see Bucky's face. "What? You said you--"

Bucky picked his head up, meeting Steve's eyes with a look of weary and slightly amused resignation. It was on the happy end of the scale of Bucky's reactions to all the wreckage Hydra had left behind in him. "When I go into one of those patterns in a fight, you don't bench me as long as I know who to take my orders from. But I can't tell you no then, either--even when I can say the words, you know I can't disobey you. And if you're willing to let me risk getting hurt or killed, or killing other people, when I can't tell you to shove your orders where the sun don't shine, you can let me suck you off."

Steve's mouth opened and closed, and Bucky's expression got a fraction more amused. "That's never actually crossed your mind, has it."

"It's... combat," Steve said helplessly. "You follow orders. You're supposed to follow orders."

Bucky nodded, like that was that, then.

"Sex should be different," Steve said, knowing how stupid it was even as he said it. 

Bucky gave him a fond look and scooted forward for a kiss, and Steve couldn't help giving it to him. It was gentle and sweet, hardly more than the press of Bucky's open mouth to his, but it satisfied something in him that had been left wanting back in the kitchen. After a moment Bucky lay back down, shifting a little to settle his cheek against Steve's chest in a more comfortable spot. Steve raised a hand to run through Bucky's hair. 

"Sex is different for most people, I guess," Bucky said. "But I'm not most people. I trust your command more than I trust myself even on a good day, and I like having sex with you, so just promise me you'll get the caviar kind next time."

"Next... time," Steve repeated, the vision already unfolding in his mind. If Bucky agreed to it in advance, if they could do it on purpose...

"S'nice waking up with a full stomach and you," Bucky said. "And you said I could have more. You said I didn't even have to earn it. You _promised_ ," Bucky added, in a little-kid whine they'd been using to make fun of Bucky's sisters pleading for things since they were ten years old. 

"Okay, okay," Steve said, tugging just hard enough on Bucky's hair to assure him that Steve wasn't going to treat him like glass. "Caviar next time. I promise."

"And a beer," Bucky muttered, sounding pleased with himself and relaxing his weight completely into Steve. "And something chocolate for dessert. I bet I could eat chocolate if you fed it to me."

"All right," Steve agreed, finally letting himself believe that they'd gotten through this unscathed. "Beer and chocolate and caviar. Whatever you want."


End file.
